That's What Friends Are For
by Spaceboy-aa
Summary: Umbridge's permanent Quidditch ban really was permanent and Harry isn't even allowed to fly a broom. One day after practice Harry shows up in the locker room drunk, tring to get Ron to take him for a broom ride. Ron tries to sober Harry up in the showers.


**Title:** That's What Friends Are For  
**Author:** Spaceboy-aa  
**Written for:** Snitchnip Chill  
**Pairing:** Ron/Harry  
**Rating:** PG-13 - For drunken-ness and boys kissing. [OoP Spoilers]  
**Disclaimer: ** I don't own, unfortunately. Credit to JK Rowling for the characters, etc. Credit to Snitchnip for the idea :D  
**Summary:** Umbridge's permanent Quidditch ban really was permanent and Harry isn't even allowed to fly a broom. One day after practice Harry shows up in the locker room drunk, tring to get Ron to take him for a broom ride. Ron tries to sober Harry up in the showers.

"Damn that idiot Umbridge woman!" Harry growled, scowling at the ground because it was tipping in all the un-natural directions and Harry really did wish it would decide which way it wanted to lean so the queasy feeling in his stomach would cease.  
  
"Thinks she can ban me from Quidditch," He muttered darkly, "Thinks she can stop me from flying altogether, does she?"  
  
Harry staggered forward as his foot caught a tree root, and, inevitably, fell flat on his face in the mud, caused by the early winter rain they'd had that morning.  
  
The dark-haired boy lay still in the mud for a moment, eventually wondering why on Earth his chest was aching dully. It took him a considerable minute because he realised that it was, most likely, because his face was inches under the wet, muddy ground, and was therefore, most likely, the reason he couldn't breathe.  
He gurgled and dragged himself into a sitting position, spitting mud and grass.  
  
"And _Ron_," Harry spat savagely, his scowl deepening, "Bet he was more than happy with himself, I bet."  
  
Harry continued muttering nonsense to himself, crawling over to a tree and using it to prop himself up. Once he'd succeeded in getting himself upright, he leaned back against the rough bark and waited hopefully for the world to stop spinning and right itself.  
  
He was more impatient than usual tonight, though, and decided he couldn't be bothered waiting. So instead he pushed himself away from the unhelpful tree and stomped off towards the Quidditch Stadium, because somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered that his so called _best friend_ would probably still be in the changing rooms, as the Gryffindor quidditch team had had practise that same evening.  
  
"Oh, if only they could see The Boy Who Lived now." The raven-haired teen murmured ruefully to himself. As he got nearer the changing rooms, it occurred to Harry that he probably looked ridiculous, covered in mud and muttering to himself. It also occurred to him that he couldn't really find it in himself to care.  
  
Harry leaned, with his arms folded over his muddy chest, watching Ron, with his back turned to the door at which Harry was standing, his wand drawn, scowl still firmly in place.  
  
"Ron,"  
  
The redhead jumped in fright and turned around to face him.  
  
"Harry? What's wrong with you, mate? You look... weird." Ron frowned, looking concerned. His eyes darting from the wand in Harry's hand to the ugly look on his face.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to say something, and took an unstable step towards Ron. Losing his balance, again, he started to fall forward, but strong arms caught him before his heavy body could connect with the concrete floor.  
Absently, Harry noted that he quite liked the feeling of his friend's arms around his waist, holding him almost protectively. Harry then realised what he'd just thought, and found himself beginning to giggle in a very silly manner.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
The red-haired teen stared at Harry incredulously.  
  
"Harry, you're not —" Ron sniffed at the shorter boy before holding him out at arms length to examine him.  
  
"Bloody hell, Harry, you're drunk!"  
  
Harry had stopped giggling and was now pouting pathetically up at his best friend.  
  
"I am not." Harry denied, shaking his head vigorously.  
  
This, it seemed, turned out to be a very bad idea, as it made Harry's world spin even faster and he started to sway dizzily.  
  
"You bloody are!" Ron growled.  
  
Suddenly, Harry was sitting down on one of the wooden benches.  
He spared a moment to wonder idly how exactly this had come to be, but decided that it didn't really matter, because the sick feeling that had been rising in his chest was slowly subsiding and for this, Harry was supremely grateful.  
  
"Can I borrow your broom, Ron?" Harry asked, peering up at him with big green eyes. Ron sighed.  
  
"Why? You're meant to be banned, mate." The redhead shook his head slowly. "Sorry, Harry, I can't let you —"  
  
"Then you take me up!" Harry begged, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.  
  
"Harry," Ron sighed, "You know I can't. Hermione would go mental. And I'll bet that Umbridge would find out some way and we'd both be banned."  
  
Harry stared at the floor and nodded slowly, sniffling occasionally. Ron stood, motionless for a couple of minutes, unsure of what to do next.   
  
"Right, well, I think we should try to get you sober, don't you?"  
  
The redheaded Gryffindor hurried away in the direction of the showers and a few moments later Harry heard water running. Soon after, Ron reappeared in the doorway.  
  
"D'you think you can walk?"  
  
Harry could barely lift his head to look at Ron, so he very much doubted he could walk. So he shook his head.  
  
"Easily fixed, then," Ron grinned uneasily, and strode over to where Harry was now lying, sprawled on the bench. "Ready?" The read-head questioned, but didn't bother waiting for an answer as he wound his arms under Harry's knees and back and lifted him as if he were feather-light.  
  
"Eep!" Harry squeaked in shock, and quickly clamped his arms around Ron's neck, burying his face into his friend's chest. Ron chuckled weakly and made his way to the showers, his arms full of Harry.  
  
"Y'know," Ron started, sounding awkward, "I think we need to get you undressed."  
  
With that, he set Harry down on the floor and let him lean against the wall for support while he went about undressing the other teen. First came the shoes and socks, and Harry wriggled his toes and chuckled quietly to himself. Next, Ron attempted and finally succeeded in tugging off Harry's cloak and robes. And those were soon followed by his school shirt and lastly, his trousers and red satin boxers.  
  
"Right, then," Ron said, standing up again, "Let's get you sober."  
  
Harry was steered into the shower by Ron, who was only half-naked.  
  
"Um, Ron?" Harry looked up at him, "D'you think I could have some, er, _privacy_?"  
  
Ron appeared undecided, because, obviously, Harry wasn't in much of a condition to hold himself upright for long, but Harry was Harry, and it was best to just let Harry figure this out for himself.  
  
Ron turned around and started to leave the shower, he'd just taken a step out when he heard a sharp yelp from his now very wet friend. Spinning around, he was just in time to catch Harry, again, before he fell and hit his head in a very undignified manner.  
  
Instead, Harry's sopping wet head was now resting against Ron's bare chest. Ron's hands were against the small of Harry's back, holding him upright. Harry muttered something incoherent.  
  
"Come on, Harry, stay awake!" He grumbled, slowly edging them back into the shower in hopes of getting a fully sober Harry back soon.  
  
"Ron?" The shorter boy moved his head slightly, looking up at the other teen. A good ten minutes must have passed, and they'd just been standing underneath the spray of warm water.  
  
Harry was, in fact, starting to feel better now. The fogginess of his vision was clearing up, and the sick feeling had all but disappeared, but he was certain that come morning he would have a terrible headache.  
  
"Mm?" Came Ron's sleepy reply.  
  
Harry reached up, placing his hands on the redhead's shoulders and pulling himself up onto his tiptoes. He tilted his wet face up and pressed his lips against Ron's chastely.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Ron's eyes fluttered open, sleepy amusement danced across his face, he grinned.  
  
"That's what friends are for, mate." He said, his voice slightly husky, as he bent his head down and captured Harry's lips in another, hungrier, kiss.


End file.
